Maybe I Don't Want To Live
by hatebelow
Summary: Hermione and her boyfriend have a huge fight. What to do? Hhr of course. later chapters may mention dg or rl luna of course. Warning: themes of suicide and mild language. Be mature and use good judgement if you cant handle it, DONT READ IT.
1. Hermione wants to die

A/n: I was struck with this plot at one in the morning. I wrote this out by the light of my cell phone. Will work for reviews. Thank you to my marvelous and beautiful beta Hermione 2405. **Round of Applause** She is wonderful. Ps I own nothing let's not rub it in. Now on to the bat cave.

She had been waiting for about 20 minutes. The Black and White Ball started at 7:00 p.m. sharp and it already was 7:04. He knew how Hermione felt about being late. She told him the time. Like always he said he would be there. Not only were they late, Hermione couldn't breathe. Edward had bought her gorgeous size 4 muggle gown, at the most expensive boutique on Diagon Alley. It was soft elegant and looked fabulous on her. The bust of the dress consisted of a corset-like function and opened up into an elegant Victorian style skirt. The material was soft and felt butter creamy against her bare skin. The only dilemma was she wore a size 6; and quickly realized that it wouldn't be a good idea to wear the dress for more than an hour or so at a time.

Harry had asked if she wanted to arrive with him because of Edward known tardiness. She politely declined saying that Edward would be on time, this time. As always, Harry was right. She might as well enjoy the wait. She loosened her top and settled down on the sofa with the remote control. Just her luck nothing worth watching was on the telly.

Half of an hour later, she heard a pop signaling apparation. "Hermione, Why aren't you ready?" Edward asked. Hermione was already steamed because he was late, now he was asking why _she _wasn't ready.

"Don't ask me that. Where the hell have _you_ been?" she asked getting off the sofa. "You promised you would be on time."

"Don't give me this crap, Minnie. Fix yourself while I go get dressed."

He undid his work tie and walked down the corridor to their bedroom. He always did that, just walked away and expected the conversation to be over. Not this time. She followed him down the hall determined to carry out their conversation.

"Edward, do not walk away when I'm talking to you." He whipped around to face her so fast that she felt a light breeze.

"Stop being a bitch, dammit. You are always harassing and nagging and bitching. That's why I hate you now." His words shocked her and left her without a response; Hermione Granger speechless. How rare was that? If only Ron could see her now.

She had no idea what to say. No one had ever spoken to her in such a retched manner; much less said they hated her. In their first year at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had said some nasty things about her comments, but never did they say they hated her. And here was her fiancé, the one who claimed to love her, telling her that he hated her. His confession sunk to her very core. Her head swarmed with thoughts and her heart ceased to work. His admission ran through her veins, grabbing hold of her stomach and pulling it through her mouth. She rushed down the hall and into the bathroom, barely making it in time to pull back her hair and lean over the commode. She retched all of her hurt, sadness, frustration and anger into the toilet bowl.

She sat back on her haunches and brushed back her hair trying to contain her emotions. She didn't know what to do. All thoughts of the ball and Harry and the lame television show she was watching, lay forgotten, in wake of a new condition. Her boyfriend hated her. For months now, he had been a little unruly, snidely commenting and always giving his two pounds about whatever the matter was. He frequently was rough with her but she thought nothing of it. She casually dismissed it as him taking his stress from work out on her. Guess she was wrong. His words played over and over in her head_. "That's why I hate you now. That's why I hate you now..." _

She wondered what she looked like now, sitting on the floor clutching the toilet bowl in a gown meant for a runway. She began to trust her legs to stand and got off the floor. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror. Her mascara was running with tears, she didn't know she had cried. Her dramatic eye shadow had smeared on her face. She thought she looked hideous.

"Hermione? Hermione, where are you?" Edward called. "I didn't mean what I said, love. I was just stressed".

Hermione gave a laugh that was nowhere near joy. _'Stress my ass.'_ She thought. That was the first time in months that he had been truly honest with her. She could hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hall towards the bathroom. She quickly slammed the door, and put several, very advanced locking charms on it. It barred entrance to only the most advanced of wizards.

She returned to the mirror to scrutinize her facial features. Her eyes were too big, and the most boring color known to mankind. Her nose was too small, and her lips too full. Her hair, though it was much tamer, was now too curly. It was also the too dark a shade of brown. She couldn't stand to look at her self any longer. She grabbed the small mirror and tore it from the wall. It landed on the floor with a crash and shattered into a million reflecting bits. A bit of the glass caught it eye. She reached down and grabbed it.

To the average eye, there was nothing special about this piece of glass. But to Hermione it was everything, the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on. That small bit of glass would be her escape. It would save her from herself and from life. Slowly, with trembling hands, she held it to her wrist and dragged. A small trail of iridescent blood followed in its wake. The first touch of the glass hurt. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth to seal off the pain. Gradually it lessened and became a soft tingling sensation. It gave her a sense of peace that had only ever been rivaled by Mrs. Weasley's famous hugs. She couldn't believe a man had reduced her to this.

She had read in a book somewhere, that if you put your wrist into warm water after cutting them, you would die. That sounded pretty good to her at the moment. She turned the hot knob on the valve and water began to flow into the tub.

"Minnie, come now, love. You know I didn't mean all that stuff I said. Open the door. Please..." He stood pleaded on the other side of the door. If she could hear him, chances were that he could hear her. She cast a silencing charm over the bathroom and turned up the water pressure streaming from the tap. The more water the better.

Next order of business was: loosening that bloody corset. She pulled at the filament on her top, relaxing but not removing the corset. The ties refused to give. _'Oh damn it all'_ she thought. At least it was better than before. She gingerly lifted her dress and hopped in the tub. It was filthy anyway' her gown was stained with her makeup, rubbish from the floor and blood oozing from her wrist. The clock on the wall read "7:55". She had been in there for quite some time now. She giggled. She didn't know what she found so amusing. Soon her giggles escalated to a full uproarious laugh. Her laughter turned into sobs and screams. She was dying. She could feel it.

She peeked into the tub around her dress. The tub water was a deep red color. She must have bled a large amount of blood. She would surely die. She never dreamed her life would end this way. She always thought she would die in the second war. That obviously didn't happen, so her second option was old age. Guess not that either.

Here she was, in her tub; Alone. She was going to die alone. Her greatest fear had always been dying alone. She didn't even have Edward's rantings to keep her company; he had given up his insistent trouncing a long time ago. Her legs were starting to get numb. She repositioned her body so that she was sitting Indian-style instead of on her legs. Water gushed over the tub at her movement. Thoughts of turning off the spigot came to her. She just didn't have the will power to do it. The water was extremely hot; she only had the hot tap on. Lucky for her the water in their flat didn't get as hot as the government recommended. But Hermione loved heat so it was bearable. All in all, she was quite comfortable. Dying was an enjoyable feeling. _'Good thing everyone gets to experience it once.'_ She closed her eyelids. She quieted the tone of her sobs and took pleasure in the sound that was silence.

As quickly as it started, her silence was replaced by the sound of rapid hammering on the door.

"Hermione!" a voice thundered. "You will let me in this second. Do you hear me? Open this door 'Mione." It roared. This voice was much louder than Edward's. She knew it anywhere. Harry.

A/N: Love it? Hate It? I don't care. I'll even accept flames (and gracefully, too ) Review please


	2. Where is she?

Where could Hermione be? She was never late. Maybe she got held up waiting for that prat, Edward. He was late for everything. But not Mione, she wouldn't be late for the world. Maybe he should send her a floo or call her on her muggle mobile. Maybe he was worrying too much. It was only 7:20 He would give her half and hour more. Until then he would enjoy his time at the ball. He had a lovely date, Samantha. Or was it Sandra? Maybe Shannon? Whatever it was, she was lovely and she was having a splendid time. He felt he owed it to her to act least act as though he was having just as much fun.

"Dance with me, Harry." She said grabbing his hand and pulling him to the dance floor. A fast song by _The Three Witches_ started to blare from unseen speakers.

He wasn't accustomed to having a date; Women often threw themselves at him (to put it lightly). But he always came stag to these sorts of functions, and would normally end up dancing with Hermione or some other friend and going home unaccompanied.

A few songs later, he finally managed to convince his date to break for a drink. He glanced down at his watch. '_Mercy_' it read 7:55. Time flew when you were pretending to have fun .He still saw no sign of Hermione. He needed to find her. He found his date at their table and after much persuasion, bid her goodnight.

He apparated into Hermione's flat moments later. "Edward! Hemione!" he yelled. The house was completely dark. Correction he spotted a light under the bathroom door. "Don't bother." came a voice from somewhere in the dark. It took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to the surroundings. He found Edward's dark outline on the sofa end. "She's been in there, doing God only knows what, for an hour." Harry waited for an explanation. Edward must have sensed that because he said "I got mad at her and she rushed in there." Harry wanted to slug him, but felt he didn't have the time to. He strode down the hall to the bathroom and pounded on the door. Rose-colored water cascaded from the space under the door and onto his shoes.

"Hermione! You will let me in this second. Do you hear me? Open the door 'Mione."

He pulled out his wand and performed the _Alohomora_ charm. It did nothing. Of course, Hermione had cast something more complex. It took him a moment to perform the counter spells to all of her spells and charms. He threw the door open and water rushed at his legs. What he saw made him lose his breath. Shattered glass, a small amount lay visible on the floor. The torrential flood cascading form the tub wasn't what had captured his attention, it was the woman in it that caught his eye. Hermione was sitting cross-legged and full alert in the bath tub. She looked lovely to him, even in her state. She was dolled up (or was) in a once-was white gown. Her make-up was smeared every which way by tears. Her hair was swept up in an oh-so attractive do. The water that she was sitting in was deep red and flowing out of the tub at an unbelievably rapid pace.

"Hermione" he said with a gasp.

She rose from the tub at the sound of her name. She gently lifted her dress and stepped from the tub. She was barefooted. The bottom of her dress was rosy colored because of the crimson water. Now that she was standing he could see the source of the red. Her wrists were bleeding. It didn't take him long to put two-and-two together. She had shattered the mirror and slit her wrist. "Oh...Hermione" he whispered. "You didn't." She lowered her head. Sniffling noises came from underneath her hair. Her body began to tremble with the force of her sobs.

"Oh baby, don't"

She looked up and he opened his arms. She ran to him and collapsed unconscious.

A/N: sorry about the cliffy. Will work for reviews


	3. Drink Up

A/N: I apologize for the last chapter. I know it was short but it was the same as the first really. As always, a round of applause for my beta reader, Hermione 2405. She is awesome. Now on with the fic.

Harry cradled her in his arms. She appeared to be sleeping. A grimace rested on her lovely porcelain features and tears still stained her cheeks. He knew she was unconscious, though. He swept her off her feet, and held her close to his chest. He never imagined that the first time he swept her off her feet, she would be unconscious. Harry carried her out of the bathroom and down the hall. He turned suddenly, remembering the silhouette sitting in the living room.

"Edward," he said spinning around, "If she doesn't live, you won't live. This is not a threat, but a promise" With that he apparated into his living room and laid her on his couch. '_What was she thinking? What could be so bad that she felt she had to kill herself?_'

She looked so tranquil. He ran his hand across her face, caressing her velvety cheek. She was so soft. He couldn't tear his eyes away. But if he didn't she would surely die.

He ran into the pantry. It was almost always stocked with potions, courtesy of Hermione. Of course, he could make the potions on his own. He was a certified healer. Still, he was no Hermione Granger. He selected four small bottles from the shelf, a blue, purple and two black, and dashed back into the room. He settled the containers onto the end table. He rested on one knee beside Hermione on the couch. Hermione looked uncomfortable, almost like she couldn't breathe.

'_Holy shit_' he thought '_She COULDN'T breathe_.' It was probably that bloody dress. He tussled with the laces but they wouldn't give. '_Oh fuck it_.' He seized the dress by the bodice and ripped. At once, Hermione began to visibly breathe. Although she was breathing, she wasn't awake. He snatched the black vial from the table and emptied its contents into his hand. Gently and steadily, he smoothed salve across her bosom and wrist. In reply to the salve, her pale skin turned a feeble lilac color. Harry was reasonably comfortable touching Hermione in such an intimate manner. She was after all Hermione. Had Hermione been any other woman, he would have died of humiliation at the mere thought of putting ointment on any part of her body. She needed to wake, so he could apply life sustaining charms. He didn't bother to wake her; the smell of the creamy potion would handle that. He knew the salve was burning her chest and wrist. The color had changed from lilac to a violent shade of puce. It was only a matter of time. Minutes later, she still wasn't awake. She needed to wake soon to orally administer the remainder of the potions and administer charms. Otherwise, death would be the inevitable.

"_Enervate_" he spoke softly to no avail. "_Enervate_" This time her eyes fluttered slightly but didn't open. "Hermione, love, I need you to wake up. I need you to look at me. Could you do that for me, baby? Look at me, love." He said tenderly in a voice he reserved only for her and the Weasley offspring. She nodded slightly and shuttered. She fluttered her eyes a little more and looked at him. He could tell that her vision was blurry. She tried to focus her deep hazel eyes on his face but didn't succeed.

"Harry" she said in a raspy voice.

"No talking, lovey. Open up. You need to take these potions." He held her head up with one hand. He uncorked the blue vial with his free hand and held it to her lips. She wiggled around, forcing it away from her orifice.

"No." she moaned.

"You will drink it," He said gently. "You cut yourself and so you must deal with the consequences if you want to live."

"Maybe I don't want to live." She said as curtly as possible in her current condition. Another time, her retort would have astounded him. But he already figured she didn't want to live from her suicide attempt.

"I don't care what you want." He said. "For once I'm doing something for me. Now open wide." She opened her mouth in a gasp and he poured the retched liquid in. She coughed and spit it on his dress robes. "Now, now 'Mione let's not go through this. We both know there is a replenishing charm on this bottle and it will refill itself. At least, until you drink up. Now, we are going to try this again." Just as he had said, the bottle refilled itself and he poured it down her throat.

She winced as the hot, distasteful bile slid down her throat. It clung to her esophagus, pulling its lining and making it raw. She couldn't breathe. She tried to cough it up but it continued it's descent through the long tube, referred to as her throat. She needed air. It was clogging her throat. She tried to sit up more to allow the liquid remedy to slide down. She couldn't pull her body up. She couldn't move. She began to struggle. "Relax." Came Harry's voice. At one time, she would have found it soothing, but now she found his voice frustrating. How could she relax when the thing she wanted most was being snatched, Ripped away from her by the man who called himself her best friend? She couldn't relax. She started to cry. She was hurting, mentally and physically. She couldn't stop the tears. It hurt to cry each tear caused her so much pain. Her body was dry and it lacked so much blood.

"Hermione, baby, don't cry it will be alright. I promise. I need you to drink two more." This did nothing for her attitude. She started to bawl. "I know honey." He said tenderly as always. "It will be okay. But I need you to drink first." And without her consent, he poured the contents of the last two vials down her gullet. She moaned at the sensations. She squinted her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to look at Harry, instigator of her misery.

After the concoctions had made the full journey down her throat, she tried to sit up again. She couldn't move. "Stop 'Mione." She felt her body rising and settled on to something warm and familiar. She opened her eyes only to be faced with Harry's staring back at her. His eyes pierced through her soul with his kind and considerate gaze. She hated that look.

"Don't look at me, Harry. You ruined my life."

"I _saved _your life." He said pulling her closer.

"You didn't save a damn thing, Harry Potter." She said feeling her strength coming back.

"Correction Missy, I saved the fucking world." He said in righteous indignation. He had a point there, so she made no argument. "Hermione?" he asked his voice gentle as a lamb again. "Why'd you do it?" She snapped her eyes shut. "He...he...he said he hated me." She stammered. "He called me a nagging bitch." Harry was shocked and appalled.

"You are a nagger." Harry agreed. Her eyes shot open in horrified shock. "But it's what makes you loveable. I wouldn't have finished school or defeated Voldemort or cleaned Godric's Hollow, if it weren't for you. I need you to nag and push me or nothing gets done. Don't listen to him. You are wonderful and perfect and gorgeous and amazing and the greatest, most wonderful woman in the world." He finished. She could feel the tears fighting in the back of her eyes, threatening to overflow again. "You really think so?"

"Of course, besides you owe me that life of yours." She looked confused. "I saved that life. I fought for you. I ended the war so that _you _could live your life. Don't you get it 'Mi" he said getting riled up, "Your life is mine." She was shocked. He never spoke that way. He never asked for or claimed anything, never really said what was on his mind anymore. This was unexpected. Then she remembered that in school he was prone to mood swings. "Harry…I…You…Really?"

"I love you, Hermione and you're mine. I want you to be mine, need you to be mine. Completely."

"Maybe" she said.

"Ok" he replied. She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. "Sleep now." he whispered mostly to himself. He sweetly kissed her forehead and watched on as she fell asleep.

A/N: End? You tell me I have an idea if not. But I think this may be a nice place to stop this fic before I ruin it. If I don't get lazy, next chapter equals Edward's take on the whole caboodle. R/R


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